


Hold, Cry

by pidgethepidgeon



Series: Beetlejuice Short Stories [9]
Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Grief, Grief/Mourning, Lydia needs a hug, Lydia reaches out for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgethepidgeon/pseuds/pidgethepidgeon
Summary: One year after Emily's death and Lydia was tasked by her therapist to write a letter, the task proved much more difficult than Lydia had anticipated and the pressure eventually becomes too much, Delia is there to comfort her
Series: Beetlejuice Short Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556005
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	Hold, Cry

Dear Mom, 

I don’t know how to start this-

Lydia stared at the blank piece of paper underneath her pen before taking the paper up in her hands and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash can where a collection of these similar letters was beginning to pile up. She felt so stupid, she should be able to do this. Her therapist suggested with the anniversary of her mother’s death approaching in the coming days Lydia should try to write everything that she’s been wanting to say in a letter. What she was supposed to do with the letter when she was done was a mystery. She was told she could rip it, or burn it, or put it in an envelope tied to a balloon and let it go. All of those seemed like stupid ideas to her, so she wasn’t exactly sure why she was trying so hard. She figured she just wanted to make her therapist happy, or maybe some part of her hoped it would work. 

It didn’t take the most observant person in the world to notice that Lydia’s demeanor had changed since December started. A month that for lots of people brings joy and togetherness just made Lydia feel empty inside. Christmas was never her favorite holiday but having her mother die two weeks before Christmas made her want to hole up away in her bedroom and just wait for the holiday to pass. Last year they had been so busy just trying to get all the arrangements set in place after Emily had died that Christmas came and went with very little acknowledgment. Charles tried to get Lydia into the holiday spirit, he even went as far as to recreate some of the old traditions Emily loved to do with Lydia when she was a little girl, but it fell completely flat and ended up making the day so much worse for her. 

After another attempt at writing the stress-inducing letter, Lydia rubbed at her eyes, pulled on her uniform and crept downstairs for breakfast. Her dad was a coffee and bagel kind of guy but Delia was a kale smoothie and oat jar person. Neither appealed to Lydia who recently found that she had very little appetite. Her stomach was constantly in knots, her mind was racing, and she hardly slept. Barbara was quick to notice this, she made efforts to make sure Lydia was still eating and while there was little she could do about the teenager’s insomnia she assured Lydia that she was right upstairs in the attic willing to talk. She figured if she couldn’t help her sleep she could at least make sure she didn’t have to spend the night alone. Lydia fought it for a while, but night three of getting less than four hours of sleep she groggily slinked up to the attic with her mother’s stuffed rabbit in her arms. They spent the night sitting on the couch, not really saying anything, but Barbara could see how just the company was enough for Lydia. 

She sat down at the table, poured herself a bowl of cereal, and scarfed it down quickly to avoid having to talk to anyone that morning. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be she didn’t have anything to say to them and she knew all they would want to talk about is the date that was rapidly approaching. Even though it was getting colder Lydia still insisted on walking to school, it gave her a chance to clear her head and try to collect herself before having to be at her top performance in school not just academically but socially. It was exhausting to put on a performance like that at school but it was so much easier than the alternative, she already wasn’t the most well-liked person at her school, the last thing she wanted to give them was something else to make fun of her for. It’s better now than it had been in New York but she still had her problems, she tried not to make a fuss about it though, everybody was busy with their own stuff and she figured if there was one thing she could handle it was the assholes she went to school with. 

Walking down the snow-covered sidewalks reminded her of her old home when she would walk with her mother and father to the little shop down the street, her snow boots leaving prints in the fresh powder that would be covered by the time they came back on the walk home. The same sidewalks that she skipped on when she would race the neighborhood kids to the school all while throwing snowballs and not even caring that they didn’t have a snow day. The sidewalks here were filled with kids like that too, so young and so happy. Lydia’s face was red from the cold wind blowing and she pulled her scarf up closer to her face as she glanced away from the happy children. By the time she made it to her high school the buses were all pulled in, filled with students that lived too far away to walk. Filing into the school she was greeted with the same chaos of every day with people shouting and kids being booked. She held hers tighter to her chest on impulse as she walked over to her locker.

“Morning Liddy.” Wendy greeted, “Ready for the history test today?”

Lydia managed a laugh, “No of course not, it’s completely ridiculous for the teacher to expect us to be able to memorize one hundred years of global history for this stupid midterm. I’m more afraid for his final though, I heard it’s cumulative.”

Wendy groaned playfully before giving Lydia a quick hug before darting off to first period. Lydia lingered in the halls for a little longer, not exactly sure why but she passed right by her classroom and didn’t go in. The hallways were eery when they were empty, it was like something had sucked the life out of them, even though Lydia knew everyone was safe inside their classes. She walked past several exits and wondered how easy it would be for her to just open the doors and go back home. She didn’t want to go back home, she didn’t want to deal with their stares either. She just wanted people to stop looking at her all the time, looking at her like something was wrong with her. Even though her father promised he would try and do better she would still catch him looking at her as if she was some kind of alien interacting with earthly things for the first time. Lydia out her hand on the handle of the door and thought about just pushing it open, walking out, and not going back. She shook her head, and eventually made her way back to the classroom she was supposed to be in. 

“You’re five minutes late Ms. Deetz.” her teacher warned, “Do you have an explanation?”

She mumbled some form of apology and was dismissed back to her seat. Despite the fact her last name came early in the alphabet this was one of the few classes where she was sat closer to the back. Normally she hated it, she was already a great deal shorter than the other kids and sitting further back just put her at more risk of someone tall obstructing her view, but this time she was grateful to be protected by the back wall. There was nobody behind her, nobody was looking at her. She was okay. She quietly pulled out her notebook and started to take notes, but she quickly got distracted when she attempted to write the letter again. She was about three paragraphs into what she considered a good start when Lydia suddenly realized the teacher was standing behind her, reading over her shoulder.

“Care to share with the class what’s more important than your English lesson?”

“I-I uh-” Lydia stammered. The teacher snatched the notebook off of Lydia’s desk and she could feel tints of red flushing on her cheeks and hear heart beating in her chest as the teacher read through the writing with a scowl. Soon the scowl turned into deep regret as he looked at Lydia with such pity. She hated that, she hated all of this. She didn’t want to sit here anymore. Her skin felt like it was on fire and she scratched at the back of her arms, they were so itchy. She hadn’t noticed before that she had a red rash spreading up her arm, soon she felt the heat rising to her neck and it took all the restraint she had not to scratch at her neck. It felt like time was frozen, moving so slowly, and everyone was just looking at her. They were all just looking at her, everyone in the class. All their eyes trained on her and that stupid notebook, why had she even been writing in it anyway, she already made enough of a scene when she came into class weight. She wanted them to look away, she wanted them to all go away. The collar of her button-up shirt felt like it was choking her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

“Can I please have that back?” Lydia whimpered, her throat unusually tight.

The teacher quickly set the notebook back on her desk but she still couldn’t shake the paranoia that everybody was still staring at her. She rubbed her arms anxiously trying to make the itching go away, trying to keep her hand from shaking, to keep herself from wanting to throw up. She pulled more at the collar of her shirt, undoing the necktie of her uniform to try and give herself more air. Noticing her distress the teacher calmly suggested that Lydia go for a walk. He wrote her a hall pass to go to the nurse and get some water, as well as apologized profusely for what happened. Lydia didn’t make it very far down the hallway before it felt like her knees were buckling underneath her, too tired to keep walking. She managed to go over to the empty stairwell and sit underneath it, hugging her knees tight to her chest while she just tried to get control of her breathing. She could hear her pulse beating in her eyes, everything was so loud, so loud and she just wanted it all to stop. She curled her fists in her hair and tried to stifle back a scream. 

Shakily Lydia pulled her cellphone out of her skirt pocket and texted her father that she needed to come home. She didn’t even bother waiting for a response, she went to the nurse’s office, stumbling as her steps were still shaky and unsure. She told the nurse that she threw up, she was offered an icepack and told to sit on the cot while she called her parents to come get her. Unfortunately, her father was stuck in a business meeting but she was comforted in the fact that Delia would come get her as soon as she possibly could. Fifteen minutes later Lydia was sitting awkwardly in the front seat of Delia’s car, visibly pale and shaken. 

“You feeling okay?”

Lydia just shook her head, not wanting to get into the details right now. She was worried that whatever it was that set her off would set her off again. She just wanted to go home and be alone, shut the door, and just pretend the world didn’t exist for a couple of hours. She knew that was unlikely, anytime she was sick everybody was fretting over her for their own personal reasons. Delia and Barbara just being motherly, Adam being protective, Beetlejuice being bored, and her father...afraid that Lydia might develop what Emily had. Any slight sniffle, or couch, or headache Charles wanted a doctor’s appointment to make sure that she was okay. While it was done with the best interests it did nothing but frighten Lydia and remind her of the bad times.

They were about half-way home when Delia stopped at a stoplight and asked her, “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

“I don’t..I just threw-”

“Honey you don’t have to lie about it, you didn’t throw up, that’s not why you wanted to come home. It’s okay, I understand, I’m not going to question it any further if you don’t want me to. What I am asking is if you want to get breakfast, there’s a little diner if we take a detour.”

Lydia nodded, not quite ready to go home, and Delia seemed to respect the boundaries she had put in place. The two of them arrived at the little restaurant, sat in a booth by the window and just sat in silence while Lydia stared out at the white snow.

“Growing up in California I never got to see a lot of snow when I was a kid, then I moved to New York after college and I have to say it wasn’t as magical as I was expecting. I actually really don’t care for it.”

“I love the snow, it reminds me of when I was little. But I can see why you might not like it. It’s an inconvenience, it gets dirty easily, all around just in the way. It’s pretty to look at though, before anyone steps in it, before any of the plows run past and turn it brown with salt and dirt.” Lydia twirled the straw in her drink absent-mindedly, “My mom and I used to wake up on snow days and watch the sunrise hitting the snow. I was always so cold, but then we’d go inside and make hot chocolate and spend the whole day in our pajamas.” She smiled fondly at the memory, she could almost picture a slightly younger Emily and a seven-year-old Lydia huddled up under coats and blankets while the sun rose over the horizon making the snow glow like a fairytale. 

“That sounds really nice,” Delia shared in the smile, and Lydia could tell it was genuine, and not just an attempt to make her shut up. 

Lydia hesitated again, “Can we talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

She rubbed her arm sheepishly, noticing the scratch marks she left on there from earlier. The rash now long gone, “What happened.”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

“I want to.” Lydia replied surprised at how sure of herself she was, “I don’t understand what happened. I don’t know why it happened. I’m just so confused about everything, and this didn’t make it any better. I don’t know, I guess it’s been coming for a few days now, I haven’t been sleeping well and I keep trying to write this stupid letter to my mom because the day it happened..the day it happened is coming up in two days and my therapist thought it would be a good idea. I don’t get this work up usually, even if things she suggests to me don’t work out, but this has been on my mind all the time. I feel like I’m walking around aimlessly.”

Delia nodded urging Lydia to continue with the explanation.

“That I could handle, I’ve felt like that before. But what happened in class, that’s never happened before, well never quite like that. I was in class and I got embarrassed and I felt like I was dying. My heart was beating so fast, my body felt hot and itchy, and I thought that everyone was staring at me. I couldn’t breathe, I thought I was suffocating, I just wished they would all go away. I don’t even want to go to school tomorrow because they’re all going to make fun of me for having a break down in school like-”

Though Delia had been intently listening, she cut Lydia off, “Nobody is going to make fun of you, and if they do they have problems of their own that they should be concerned about. Lydia do you know what a panic attack is?”

She nodded

“That’s what happened. You had a panic attack, I used to get them when I was your age too. They’re scary, they feel awful, you probably feel exhausted right now. They are not something to take lightly or diminish, yeah?” She waited for the teen to nod in reply, “I’m really sorry that happened to you Lydia, it’s scary to go through it alone in your house but I can’t imagine how scared you were having it happen in public.”

“I thought I was dying.”

“They feel like that, people confused panic attacks for heart attacks because the symptoms are so physical. Do you have any idea what might have triggered it?”

Lydia shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s been a lot of stuff recently. Like I figured this would be hard but I didn’t think it would be this bad. Today isn’t even the day and look at me, I’m a freaking mess. How am I supposed to go to school that day, I can’t miss more school I already left early today and-” she suddenly remembered the history midterm she was supposed to be taking today, “Oh my god I’m going to fail history now because I’m not there to take the stupid test, he won’t let us make it up and I’m-I-”

“Calm down, calm down.” Delia tried to soothe her, “It’s going to be okay, your father and I will make sure that everything is squared away with the school. You’re not going to fail your class, and if you don’t think going to school on Wednesday is a good idea you don’t have to go. We’re going to make this work, alright?”

Lydia nodded feeling the familiar sensation of tears pricking at her eyes. It was a strange kind of feeling though, they weren’t exactly sad tears but they weren’t entirely happy either. It was a bittersweet kind of sadness. The two girls finished eating, though Lydia mainly pushed the pancakes around with her fork taking bites every now and again to keep Delia satisfied. They walked back to the car and drove back to the house. When Lydia got inside she didn’t know why but she paused in the living room before the staircase. She knew she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep the day away but another part of her wanted to be around someone which she found so confusing considering all she had been longing for since the morning was to be alone. Delia was off to the kitchen, she had some project sprawled out on the dining table that looked very involved. Lydia didn’t want to feel like a burden, Delia had already taken time out of Delia’s day off to have her come get her from school and take her for food, she didn’t want to come off as needy just because Lydia wanted to talk. She could talk to Barbara but she would have to explain everything all over again, and while she loved Barbara with all her heart, Barbara was more for a gentle motherly approach, Delia knew what she was talking about with all the psychology stuff going on in Lydia’s brain. 

“Delia?” Lydia called quietly, almost hoping she wouldn’t answer which would give Lydia all the permission she needed to go and isolate herself in her room. To a mix of her relief and anguish, the redhead appeared within seconds. The two looked at each other for a second before Lydia couldn’t take it anymore. She had been trying to hold it in for so long and it exploded at school, she didn’t want that to happen again. With a sad sniffle, she ran over to Delia and threw herself into a tight hug, feeling some of her anxieties melt away as Delia held onto her so tightly, not moving, not pulling back, just being there for her. 

“I miss her. I miss her all the time, and I just want the pain to stop. It’s been a year now, why isn’t the hurt going away Delia?”

“Grief can last for a while, and when we lose someone we never perfectly recover. I wish I could tell you it will all disappear one day but I don’t want to lie to you, not anymore. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to miss her, alright? Don’t feel bad about it, this..this is normal. This is all part of the grieving process.” Delia pulled away slightly from the now sobbing girl and lead her to the couch so they could sit down more comfortably. 

“I keep thinking about that day, I think about when I found out she was sick. They told me she was going to pull through, that the odds of her beating it were so good, and they lied to me. Two years I had to watch my mom get sicker and sicker, and then I watched her die.” Lydia felt a tear stream down her cheek and she tried to push the image from her head, she trembled as she tried to block out the screaming in her head that she knew was hers from when her father had to pull her away. She’ll never forget how it felt as though she had been hit in the stomach with a metal bat when the heart monitor flatlined and there was no crash team trying to bring her back. Not anymore, Charles told her some months later that Emily was ready to go, that she didn’t want them to keep bringing her back. She made Charles promise to not tell Lydia until it was over, she knew Lydia would take it poorly and she was right. When Charles told her she felt so betrayed and hurt and angry. 

“I want her back.” Lydia cried

Delia pulled the girl into another embrace and held onto her while she cried. Delia, though it was extremely difficult, resisted the urge to cry with her knowing that Lydia needed someone to be emotionally available, and not consumed in their own feelings. It was times like these that Delia remembered just how young Lydia was, she had just turned fifteen in July and she had already gone through so much. By the time Charles had gotten home from work Lydia was thoroughly exhausted and gave an extremely brief explanation, knowing Delia would help her out in filling in the gaps of information. After a dinner that Lydia could only describe as a conversational landmine, she looked at her phone for the first time since school and saw a few messages from concerned friends about how she was feeling after she “threw-up” and Wendy, of course, came in clutch with sending Lydia feel better memes. Lydia relxaed a little when there were no messages from students in her class teasing her for her panic attack, or even mentioning it at all. Maybe nobody was staring at her after all, maybe they all believed that Lydia just got sick to her stomach. Her father sent an email to the teacher giving the test that day and made arrangements for Lydia to make it up on Thursday when she was feeling better, going off of the already established lie Lydia was given two more days off school to recover from her stomach bug. After wishing everyone goodnight Lydia finally went to her bedroom. She fully undid her school tie and threw it in the heap of clothes in the corner of her room, she switched her button-up and shirt for warm pajamas. Her two cats were watching her intently as she sat down at her desk the same way she had just this morning, a pen in her hand and a blank paper underneath her. After staring for a few seconds she finally started writing.

Dear Mom,

I think I’ve misunderstood this letter. This letter isn’t for you, this letter is for me. I still don’t know how to start this because there is so much to say but I’ll start with the easiest thing first. Mom, I miss you and I wish you were here. I wish you hadn’t told the doctors to stop trying, but I know that even if they had it would have happened eventually, and you’d still be sick and in pain. I feel selfish wishing I had gotten more time, but I’m not sorry about that. I’ve learned I’m allowed to have yucky feelings sometimes. 

I’ve met people that you’d just love. They’d love you too. I love you-


End file.
